Aftermath
by Cats070911
Summary: Pursued by a crazed gunman, Tommy saves Barbara but is wounded, resulting in a epiphany for both, but what will be the consequences?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:** all usual disclaimers apply. This story plonked itself into the centre of my brain's writing space and refused to budge until it was written.

* * *

 **BARBARA**

Detective Sergeant Barbara Havers slipped on the wet pavement and fell. Her boss's hand grabbed her jacket and wrenched her to her feet. Her legs started running immediately. A bullet ricocheted off a post box. She ducked. It was so close she could feel the air rush past her face before she heard the telltale high pitched whine.

The only cover was still twenty yards ahead. A low brick wall separated the car park from the footpath. Her world narrowed. Nothing mattered except reaching that wall. She felt her hand tugged forward as Tommy grabbed it. She ran as fast as she could and fell and over the two foot of old brick and pressed herself against it.

"You okay?" Tommy asked.

She was panting so hard she could not answer, so she just nodded.

"I'm getting too old for this," he grumbled.

She nodded again. "Me too."

A small piece of brick broke off and sliced open the skin above her eye. Williams, the suspected murderer of the headmaster of Withcompton Grammar, was still firing shots at the wall and yelling abuse. Tommy moved closer as if shielding her. He reached up and touched her forehead.

"Ouch."

"Sorry. It's not too bad, but it might need a couple of stitches."

The shooting had stopped, but that barely registered as Barbara accepted his handkerchief and pressed it against the cut. "Well, it's not as if I had looks to lose."

"Don't say that. You're... argh!"

Barbara tried to understand what had hurt Tommy. She tilted her head. Williams was behind him and had hit him with something she could not quite see. From his shallow, rapid breathing she could tell he was in pain. Williams lifted his arms and began to swing. Tommy rolled on top of Barbara, forcing air from her lungs. The wall pressed against her hip and a rock dug into her back. She tried to push her boss off when his body shook violently.

"Sir?" Her voice was muffled by a mouthful of cashmere overcoat as his weight collapsed into her. She reached around his torso. A sharp sting clarified her thoughts. She could feel blood oozing from around the blade of the knife. Was it hers or Tommy's?

His head fell back against her shoulder, his face next to hers. "Sir!"

The ground shook. A loud crack broke the silence. Feet were running, people were screaming. In the background sirens ee-ored. Lights flashed orange, red and blue.

"Helen?..." His voice sounded as if he was speaking underwater. Barbara frantically pressed her hand around the knife blade. She fought her instinct to pull it out, knowing that victims of serious knife wounds usually bled to death if the blade was removed. "Hang on, Sir."

"Will you marry me?" His mouth was against her ear.

Barbara closed her eyes and swallowed. His voice was seductively soft. He was delirious and talking to Helen. Unwanted tears leaked from her eyes. "Sir, help is coming. Hang on. Please hang on."

"Marry me."

His voice was so faint Barbara feared the worst. "Don't die. I couldn't bear to be without you."

His response was half-laugh, half-cry of pain. "Then... marry...me."

Barbara knew Tommy needed to hear it. How could she deny him a final moment of happiness? "Yes. I love you, Tommy."

It was the truth, even if he thought she was Helen. Finally saying it was almost a relief.

"I... love you... too." With a long contented sigh, Tommy's head rolled away from her ear. The full weight of his body crushed her. Barbara's heart broke, and she began to sob uncontrollably.

* * *

 **TOMMY**

Today was not turning out the way Detective Inspector Tommy Lynley had imagined. For two days they had investigated the suspicious death of the headmaster of the prestigious Withcompton Grammar School on the outskirts of London. It was clear that he had been murdered, and the primary suspect was Williams, a former Head Boy at the school whose mother was having an affair with the headmaster. His plan was simple - arrest Williams and return to Scotland Yard for questioning.

They did not know that Williams was psychopathic until his mother allowed them to inspect his room. Havers found a cache of weapons inside a secret compartment under his bed along with graphic magazines depicting torture and sexual violence. Barbara phoned for a SOCO team while he began questioning the mother. He looked up when his sergeant walked into the room. It was then that the window shattered. Mrs Williams collapsed forward onto the floor, a pool of blood spreading on the grey carpet in front of her head.

"Run!" he ordered.

Barbara was ahead of him yelling into her phone as they ran out of the rear door. The house backed onto open paddocks. The only dividing line was a well-worn dirt path that led back towards the school. As they ran, large plops of rain began to fall.

"Today just gets better and better."

"Sir, just run."

Tommy had been utilising the Met's gym a lot more lately and was grateful that he had regained some of his fitness. Barbara was surprisingly fit in these situations and, despite being in her heavy jacket, out-sprinted him.

Uncertain if Williams was pursuing them Tommy glanced around. Williams had a hunting rifle pointed straight at him. Lynley zagged left, and a fragment of wood from a signpost hit him above his ear. "He's firing at us," he yelled.

"No kidding."

Dirt kicked up around his feet. Tommy smiled even though if felt inappropriate. "I wish I was."

They turned the corner where the path swung around behind the old stone church into the main street. The flat Georgian style cottages lining the road offered little protection. His eyes darted wildly as he looked for cover. "Over there," he called, "behind that wall."

Both detectives ran straight for the car park about fifty yards ahead. Barbara slipped on a thin sheen of oil that had been freed from the asphalt by the rain. Still running, Tommy grabbed her jacket and yanked her to her feet. He took her hand as bullets continued to fly around them. He pushed Barbara over the wall then dived, tearing his trousers on the rough concrete.

He pushed Barbara closer against the wall. "You okay?"

She nodded, but he saw the fear in her eyes. Having been shot once before, Barbara was wary of firearms. "I'm getting too old for this," he quipped, hoping to lessen her anxiety.

She nodded again, her breathing now more even. "Me too."

Bullets peppered the low wall. Tommy hoped that back up would arrive quickly. Once Williams realised they had no weapons he would have no hesitation in shooting them. Profanity poured from Williams between bursts of gunfire. Tommy was vaguely amused that some were even in Latin.

The shots were only a few yards away now. A shard of brick flew from the top of the wall cutting Barbara's face. Blood began to trickle over her eye and down the side of her nose. Tommy wriggled closer, wedging her tighter against the wall. He was not going to allow her to be hurt. He gently wiped the wound with a clean handkerchief he kept in his jacket pocket.

"Ouch."

"Sorry. It's not too bad, but it might need a couple of stitches."

Barbara grabbed the handkerchief and held it against her forehead partially hiding her eyes. "Well, it's not as if I had looks to lose."

Tommy smiled softly. She had no idea how attractive she was. "Don't say that. You're..." pain ripped through his abdomen. "Argh!"

Instinctively, he moved his body to shield Barbara. He looked up straight into the eyes of Williams. Initially, there was no mercy; no recognition that Tommy was even human. He was barely nineteen but looked much older. His eyes were haunted by demons far beyond the experience of most people. Tommy recognised his suffering, and for a single moment when Williams held the knife high, he knew the lad had seen it in him too. Tommy stared at him. Williams nodded. There was an unspoken agreement that Barbara would be spared. Lynley continued to watch Williams as the killer rammed the knife into his chest.

"Sir?" Barbara sounded panicked.

Tommy wanted to reassure her, but his energy centred on the pain that spread in waves from the right side of his chest. Breathing was difficult and excruciating. All he could do was move his head back closer to hers.

"Sir!"

The satisfaction on Williams' face was replaced by solace as a bullet shattered his temple. As if in slow motion, fragments of white and red flew out in a cone pattern back towards the direction of the shot. On the other side, a huge, hair-covered piece of skull broke away. It flew a few feet before shattering into hundreds of fragments that fell in an arc as Williams's body slowly rotated almost ninety degrees before tumbling onto the concrete at Tommy's feet. The thud reverberated through Barbara and made the knife shudder in his wound just as the sound of the shot reached his ears.

Tommy struggled to keep his eyes open. Shadows of people moved across his vision. Sirens wailed in the background. He blinked. "Helen?"

"Hello, Tommy."

"Am I... dead?"

"No."

"Why are you here? I'm sorry. I should have known that Nina..."

Helen held up her hand. "It's okay, Tommy. I found peace. You need to too."

"I can't."

"Still the tortured adolescent blaming everyone else I see. Wake up to yourself, Tommy. Only you are in charge of your happiness. You love her. Tell her. Marry her. She will never love anyone else. If you can't bear the thought that you might be happy, at least give Barbara the chance to be, and one day you will wake up and realise that you are also happy."

Helen waved and disappeared.

Tommy took as deep a breath as his injury would allow. Helen was right. And if he did not make it, he wanted Barbara to know he had loved her. "Will you marry me?"

"Sir, help is coming. Hang on." Her voice cracked and shivered. "Please hang on." Tommy could hear her fear and desperation.

"Marry me," he said again. This time it was more of a plea than a request.

"Don't die. I couldn't bear to be without you."

Tears ran down his face. "Then... marry... me." Speaking was becoming harder.

"Yes. I love you, Tommy." He heard the honesty and relief in her voice.

"I... love you... too..." Tommy let out a long sigh. Helen had been right. He was happy. It was a new sensation but one he hoped never left him. He closed his eyes. At last, he was at peace.

* * *

 **Afternote:** I could leave this story here, and it would be perfectly self-contained. However, my original idea is in the next chapter(s), so it will continue.


	2. Chapter 2

BARBARA

Tommy's weight began to crush her, but in case he was still alive, she was too scared to move. His body pinned her upper arms, but she continued to stretch her fingers to hold the hilt of the knife against his wound. She tried to focus on whether his chest was moving, whether he was breathing. It was impossible to tell. Any movement might be from her.

His head was next to her cheek, but Tommy's face had fallen away from her. The errant lock of hair that usually fell across his eye was lying across her cheek and tickled her nose. She turned her head slowly and grabbed some hair between her teeth. It smelt of him, of rain, of sweat. She ran her tongue over the strands. They were salty and tasted of shampoo. She tried to kiss his cheek but could not reach.

"I love you, Tommy."

"Sergeant Havers?" A hand ripped Tommy's hair from her lips. A torch flashed in her eyes. She blinked. A man knelt over her feeling around her skull and shoulders. Someone else was prying her hands from the knife. She tightened her grip, feeling the blade cut deeper into her flesh.

"Let go, Sergeant. We need to assess your colleague's wounds." The kneeling man turned his head away. "We need to get her out," he yelled.

"No, I'm fine. Help Tom... the Inspector."

"Let go of the knife, Sarge. We're going to pull you out so we can treat him. "

"Is he alive?"

"Barely." Fingers peeled hers back. Hearing he was alive she let go. The paramedic tumbled backwards off his heels and cursed under his breath. Barbara noticed water on her face. The man swore again. He turned away from her. "It's raining. I need cover. Now."

Hairy hands were an inch from her face gently lifting Tommy. Someone else was moving around at his ankles. She saw one of Tommy's good Italian leather shoes tossed over the wall. The black silk sock landed on the top and hung like a limp flag.

Tommy groaned, and Barbara smiled. "Hang on, Sir. You're going to be okay." She had nothing tangible to back up her claim, but if it were her, she would want to hear that.

People rushed everywhere but time seemed to stand still. She heard Winston issuing orders to local officers. He also talked to someone on his mobile. She caught words. Shot. Havers. Lynley. Stabbed. Critical. Life-threatening. Dead.

 _Dead? Who was dead?_ She tried to move. The hairy-handed paramedic gently pushed her down. "Stay calm."

"Who's dead?" she demanded.

"The gunman. He was shot. Your colleague is still hanging in. Now we are going to lift you out. Just stay still."

She felt Tommy's legs moving to the right. Strong hands looped under her shoulders and began to pull. She shrieked as pain tore through her right side.

Her swearing paramedic waved his hands above her face. "Stop!"

For a moment the only sound was Tommy whimpering. Hands tenderly lifted him and fingers tentatively explored between his body and her side. Every touch was like being poked with a white-hot spear. Barbara threw her head back and screamed.

"The knife went through him. It's gone about an inch into the female and moving her has opened the wound further."

"We have to separate them." Another voice, deeper with more authority, began to issue instructions. "Give them Fentanyl and IV fluids. If he goes into shock, we might lose him. And don't remove that knife. Pack his back to keep it in place."

Her arm was yanked up. A gloved hand took hers and wiped the back. It felt cold on her skin. Her hand stung as a needle was inserted. She grimaced but then began to feel floaty.

Hairy Hands looked down. "Sarge, the knife went deeper than we thought. It's also stabbed you. We've given you something for the pain."

"Mmm." Barbara started to lose touch with her body. She felt numb. She struggled to keep her eyes open. "Tommy. Just save Tom..." A mask went over her mouth and nose, and she drifted to sleep.

* * *

TOMMY

"I love you, Tommy."

Barbara loved him. He tried to answer, but no words came. His hand was too heavy to lift and find hers to hold. Loving arms were holding him tight, and he nestled back against her. Her breath tickled his neck. One day when they were married, they would take turns to lie just like this, cradling each other and soothing their fears. But on a bed, on their sides. This concrete was killing his back.

Strangers pummelled him. He grumbled as they removed his shoes. Someone pricked him on the inside of his left ankle. Heat travelled up his leg, reaching his stomach and warming it. A mask was strapped to his face. The elastic caught his hair and pinched as they pulled it free. Cool oxygen filled his lungs, mingling with the heat.

Men were talking. Maybe to him, but it did not seem that way.

"Is he alive?"

 _Yes, Barbara._

"Barely."

 _Idiot. I. Am. Alive!_

Barbara's hands moved away. He tried to object, but his limbs still would not budge. All he could do was groan.

"Hang on, Sir. You're going to be okay." Barbara's voice was encouraging. She would never lie to him.

 _Tommy, call me Tommy._ He would remind her again when he woke. Now he was tired. Very tired.

He jerked awake when Barbara screamed. He tried to remember where he was. Gunman. Williams. Stabbed. Indistinct images flashed through his mind. Paramedics. Pain.

"Tommy. Just save Tom..."

 _Tom?_ No one ever called him that. Barbara could if she preferred. Barbara. _Barbara loves me._ He sighed.

* * *

BARBARA

Her grip on reality was tenuous. Was it real? A dream? Something else in between both? She reached out her hand. "Tommy?"

"She's coming around. Do you want me to give her more Fentanyl?"

"Not yet. Barbara? Barbara, can you hear me?"

"Hairy Hands?"

"Pardon?"

Barbara ignored him. "Where's Tommy?"

"He went in the first ambulance? We're in the second. We'll be at the hospital soon."

"No. I need to see Tommy." She tried to sit up. Soft hands stopped her and helped her back down. Pain shot through her abdomen. "I've been shot?"

"No. It's a knife wound. It's not serious."

"Stabbed...? But Tommy was on top of me."

"It was a long hunting knife. It went through your partner and into you. Now stay calm for us, Barbara."

* * *

TOMMY

He woke with a fright. "Barbara! I want to see Barbara."

"His BP is dropping again." It was a male voice. "Get more saline and dobutamine into him."

"Where's Barbara?"

A nurse in light blue scrubs pulled down her mask and took his hand. "She's in Emergency, Lord Asherton. We're prepping you for surgery."

He felt the same warmth creeping up his leg. "Bar...ba..."

"You'll see her soon. Just relax."

* * *

BARBARA

Barbara woke slowly. Monitors beeped to her left. One started to hum louder as she moved. Her right arm was weighed down. A cuff squeezed her bicep as it inflated. A peg pinched her finger. The back of her hand had a tube running up to a bag on a pole above her. _Red. Blood_. Why did she need blood?

When she tried to move, she remembered. She had been hurt. Tommy had been stabbed. "Sir?"

"Barbara! You're awake."

"Winston? Where's the DI? Why are you here?"

"I offered to stay with you." Her other hand was lifted and encased by Winston's massive hands. They were warm and comforting, but she wanted to see Tommy.

"The DI?" she insisted.

"Still in surgery. He was stabbed twice. The first one went through his liver and the second nearly cut his aorta. It was good that you held it in place, Barbara. You saved his life."

"Will he...?"

"We are all praying for him." Winston started to pat her hand. It was annoying, so she snatched her hand back.

TOMMY

"We had to resect his liver. We would normally only do that with a tumour, but the left lobe was partially shredded by the serrations. His liver is not the best, but there's no cirrhosis so it will regenerate within a few months."

 _Liver resection? He tried to move but was unable. Barbara! How's Barbara?_

"And the other wounds?"

 _Mother? Why was... oh, yes. Makes sense. Barbara? Ask about Barbara damn you._

"The knife missed his aorta by less than a quarter of an inch. His partner did well holding the knife the way she did. Otherwise, he would have almost certainly bled to death before we could operate."

"Thank you, Doctor. I'm going to find Barbara as soon as Tommy is stable and thank her. She's probably waiting with his other colleagues."

"Ms Havers? We operated on her too. The knife punctured her abdomen and your son's blood leaked into her peritoneal cavity. We cleaned that out to avoid any immune reaction or infection. She had other injuries and scarring too, so we had to be thorough."

 _No! Will she be okay?_

"I didn't know," his mother said. "I will see if she is okay. If she needs any treatment, I'll be happy to pay."

"She's been taken to the NHS surgical ward. Her wallet lists your son as her next-of-kin, so we are unsure about any other family."

"Barbara's not married. Her parents are deceased I believe, so... it... Tommy probably is her next-of-kin. He would want Barbara to be moved to the private wards too. We will be happy to pay. It's the least I can do for her saving my son's life."

"I will arrange for her to be moved. Now try not to worry, Lady Asherton. We will keep your son in ICU until he is stable. His blood pressure keeps going up an down. I think we should put him into an induced coma for a few days. After that, we can transfer him into the private wards. He will be with us for at least ten days."

"Do whatever you have to do, Doctor. "

 _No! I want to see Barbara first._

"Is there any other family? A wife perhaps? We will need permission from his next-of-kin."

"No. His wife died 18 months ago. I am his next-of-kin."

"Then If you would sign here please." Tommy heard rustling and then the world slowly faded to black.

* * *

BARBARA

It was three days before Barbara was allowed to visit Tommy. He was still in his induced coma, but his wounds were healing, and they had moved him into a ward on her floor. The nurse helped her from the bed onto the wheelchair. "I could walk."

The nurse checked the corridor before pushing her chair out the door. "No, this way I can leave you alone for ten minutes. No more mind or Sister will string my guts up and use them for her washing line."

Barbara smiled. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

"I saw all about it on the news. You saved his life. They are talking about some award for you."

"Me?"

"Yes, some police thing I think. Anyway, here we are. He's some sort of toff, too, they said, and not married. He's not a bad looker for an older man. If I didn't have my George, well, I could put my slippers under his bed."

Barbara shook her head. Even unconscious he attracted women. "Many women feel that way."

"He's not... is he?"

"No! Certainly not." Barbara was tempted to say he had proposed to her, but she did not want that spread around the nurses in case Tommy or his mother heard. It was a moment she would treasure, even if he had thought she was someone else.

"Okay, love. Ten minutes."

The nurse wheeled her through the door. Tommy looked peaceful. Monitors were hooked up to him, and his face was distorted by the breathing tube, but the nurse was right, he was still handsome. The nurse parked her chair beside the bed on the side where his arm was unencumbered by tubes or monitors. Barbara reached out and took his hand. She had ten minutes to love him; then she had to revert to just being his friend.


	3. Chapter 3

BARBARA

Barbara visited Tommy every day after breakfast. She sat by his bed until lunch when she hobbled back to her room to eat her special soft food diet the highlight of which was the lunchtime bowl of jelly and ice cream.

His mother always arrived just after one o'clock, so Barbara went back for ten minutes every afternoon. That visit was just for appearance. She was polite, professional and left her heart at the door. The morning visits were different. Barbara would sit and hold Tommy's hand and talk to him. The first day she had seen him, she had vowed she would step back. The next morning she had been unable to get anyone to tell her how he was, so had wandered down the hall to his room without the nurse noticing, and stayed until they had come looking for her.

That first day, Tommy looked pale. His monitors were humming which she took as a good sign, but it was hard to see him lying there alone and helpless. Barbara sat by his bed and started talking to him. Without realising she took his hand in hers and gently massaged it as she spoke. It began by updating him on her operation, her ridiculous diet, her gratitude to his mother for insisting she had a private room on the same ward as him, and her annoyance at Hillier's planned afternoon visit to boost her morale. The Assistant Commissioner, she assured Tommy, was the last person who would be able to lift her spirits. Her blood pressure - yes; her spirits - certainly not.

Soon she was telling him everything. All her long-held secret fears, embarrassments, and feelings she had always wanted to reveal to him but had never had the courage, came tumbling out along with tears. Every day ended the same way, a gentle kiss on his forehead and her declaration of undying love.

Today was hard. In a few hours, she was being discharged. She held his hand tighter than ever before.

"Apparently I can go home today. My wound has healed. There's no infection, and so I can't impose on your mother's generosity any longer."

Barbara reached out and stroked his face. "I don't know if you can hear me or will remember. In a way, I hope you understand. I love you, Tommy. I think I always have. Well, since sometime during our first case anyway. What happened last week... well it made me feel closer to you than ever. But I have to be pragmatic. I know it wasn't real. I know you thought I was Helen. That's okay. I understand. I answered the way I thought you needed to hear from her. It's just that... it hurt. I wanted it to be me and to give you that answer. Now I'm struggling to go back to pretending everything is the same as it was. I need some time, some distance. So I've decided to go and visit my cousin in Scotland for a few weeks. I know that you will be angry when you wake up and I'm not here. I know you will need me. I feel bad about that, and I'm sorry, I really am Tommy, but I'm just not ready. I can't play that role right now. Every day with your mother, pretending we are just work colleagues, it kills me. Only that's all we are, isn't it? If only you really loved me..."

Barbara stood and pulled three tissues from the box mounted on the wall above the bedside cabinet. She blew her nose loudly then put them in the plastic waste bag hanging from the table that extended across the bed. She squirted hand sanitiser on her hands from the bottle on the cabinet and thoroughly rubbed so that she would not infect him.

"I'll be back. I can't leave you, and you know that. But right now, I can't be here." She kissed his cheek, leaving it wet with tears. "I love you, Tommy. Too much."

Barbara watched him for a few minutes then let out a sigh. She walked to the door and looked back. "See you later, Sir."

* * *

DOROTHY

With plans to meet an old friend for dinner, Dorothy Lynley decided to visit the hospital early. When she opened the door, she was surprised to see Barbara holding Tommy's hand and caressing his face. She paused, trying to decide what to say.

"I love you, Tommy. I think I always have. Well, since sometime during our first case anyway. What happened last week... well it made me feel closer to you than ever."

Barbara's words were heartfelt and poignant. Her love for her son was obvious, and she wondered why she had never noticed before.

"I know you will need me. I feel bad about that, and I'm sorry, I really am Tommy, but I'm just not ready. I can't play that role right now. Every day with your mother, pretending we are just work colleagues, it kills me. Only that's all we are, isn't it? If only you really loved me..."

Lady Asherton prided herself on her self-control, but hearing Barbara's words made her choke up. Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks and onto her silk blouse. Dorothy could offer no words of comfort because she had no idea how her son felt about Barbara. He had never given her any indication that his possessiveness and dependence on Barbara was anything more than friendship and respect. _Could he love her?_ She quietly left the room. Barbara would be mortified to think she had been overheard.

* * *

TOMMY

Every cell in his body ached. Even his fingernails and hair hurt when he moved. The room was bright. Too bright. He turned his head away from it.

"Barbara?"

"Tommy? Oh, thank God. We've been so worried."

"Mother?"

A hand gripped his like a claw capturing prey. "Yes, Tommy. I'm here." He tried to struggle up. "No, stay there. You don't want to pull your stitches."

"Where's Barbara?"

"I don't know, Tommy."

He blinked, slowly adjusting to the light. It made no sense. Barbara had been visiting him, holding his hand, talking to him. The conversations were sketchy, like a dream that was vivid but slipped away once you woke. But she had been there, he was certain of that. "How can you not know? She's been sitting with me."

"You knew she was here?"

"Yes. It's foggy, but she used to sit with me. So why isn't she here?"

"Barbara was wounded too. I paid for her to be in a room here. She was discharged yesterday. She said she was going away for a while. To a cousin in Scotland."

"Yesterday? How long have I been here?"

"Just over a week. You were critically injured. They put you into an induced coma. They only stopped those drugs a few hours ago."

"And Barbara left me?" It made no sense. "But she's going to marry me."

"Marry you?"

"I asked her. She said yes."

"When?"

"After I was stabbed."

His mother patted his hand. "Tommy, you have to focus on getting better. The doctors say you are doing well. Your liver was damaged, but it is healing nicely. Barbara saved your life. She needs time to recover. She will be 's your friend, Tommy. Your partner."

He pulled away. "I want to see Barbara."

"I don't know where she is."

"Rubbish. There is no way Barbara would leave without giving you a way to contact her. I know how she thinks."

"She was wounded too. She needs time to sort through her own issues."

"We both have things to sort out. Together."

His mother pulled something from his bedside cabinet drawer. "She left this for you. I'll find the doctor and tell him you're awake."

* * *

DOROTHY

"Mother?"

 _Oh, thank you, God!_ Dorothy took her son's hand and squeezed it hard. "Yes, Tommy. I'm here."

Tommy began to pull at the monitor cords. "No, stay there. You don't want to pull your stitches."

"Where's Barbara?"

"I don't know, Tommy."

Watching her son's confusion was painful. "How can you not know? She's been sitting with me."

Dorothy was astounded. "You knew she was here?"

"Yes. It's foggy, but she used to sit with me. So why isn't she here?"

She paused as she decided how much to tell him. If she told him everything she knew, Barbara would feel betrayed and never trust her. And Tommy, well he was just as likely to try to walk across Mull in search of her. Dorothy decided on the truth but keeping it simple.

"Barbara was wounded too," she told him. "I paid for her to be in a room here. She was discharged yesterday. She said she was going away for a while. To a cousin in Scotland."

"Yesterday? How long have I been here?"

"Just over a week. You were critically injured. They put you into an induced coma. They only stopped those drugs a few hours ago."

"And Barbara left me? But she's going to marry me."

"Marry you?" No wonder the poor girl was confused. Dorothy remembered Barbara saying Tommy had confused her with Helen. It seemed Tommy had known exactly who it was after all.

"I asked her. She said yes."

She had to be sure. "When?"

"After I was stabbed."

So it was true. Poor Barbara. Poor Tommy. How did her son always manage to make such a mess of his love life? She took his hand and stroked it. "Tommy, you have to focus on getting better. The doctors say you are doing well. Your liver was damaged, but it is healing nicely. Barbara saved your life. She needs time to recover. She will be back."

He pulled away. "I want to see Barbara."

"I don't know where she is."

"Rubbish. There is no way Barbara would leave without giving you a way to contact her. I know how she thinks."

"She was wounded too. She needs time to sort through her own issues."

"We both have things to sort out. Together."

Dorothy fetched the letter Barbara had left for him from the drawer bedside his bed. She hoped it did not say anything that might ruin there future. "She left this for you." Dorothy could not be there when he read it. "I'll find the doctor and tell him you're awake."

She scurried from the room and pulled her phone from her bag. She quickly found the number. "Ah, Sir David. I thought I would let you know Tommy has woken up and he seems fine. I was wondering; I don't suppose Barbara Havers left details of where she was going in Scotland with you? I only have her mobile number..."

* * *

BARBARA'S LETTER

 _Dear Sir,_

 _I am glad you are reading this because it means you are out of the coma and getting better. That is fantastic news, and everyone will be pleased. Your poor mother has been worried sick._

 _You will probably expect me to be there to visit. The incident brought back traumatic memories, so I hope you will understand that I need some time away from London. I am going to see my cousin on the Isle of Mull and think about my future. Even if they would allow me, I am not sure I want to return to the Met, especially if, as I suspect, you will be unable to return._

 _Please do not try to find me. I promise I will be back. I just need a little solitude._

 _Kindest regards,_

 _Havers_

* * *

TOMMY

He re-read the letter four times. Each time it sounded more impersonal, yet between the lines, all Tommy read was pain. Barbara needed him for her recovery more than he needed her. He had to find a way to get to Scotland, regardless of whether she wanted him there or not.


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry for the delay - real life and all that...

* * *

SIR DAVID HILLIER

With his most successful team out of action, AC Hillier was busy trying to manage the Met's caseload of crimes that needed investigation. Despite Lady Asherton's heartfelt plea, he did not have time to chase DS Havers and sort out her love life. He smiled tightly at his phone. "I don't have any details, Lady Asherton, but I will make some enquiries and let you know... Yes, thank you. Please pass on my best wishes to Tommy."

He hung up and punched the button on his intercom. "Smithers, send for DC Nkata please."

* * *

BARBARA

Sometimes her job had advantages. Knowing her mobile signal could be traced, before leaving London, Barbara took extra precautions to ensure she would not be found easily. She purchased a cheap mobile pre-paid phone which ran on a different network to her Met phone. She diverted her mobile to the new number and left her Met phone switched off and prominently displayed on her kitchen bench. If Tommy or Winston did gain entrance to her flat, it would be visible.

She withdrew a large sum of cash from her local ATM. That would appear consistent for a trip to a relatively isolated island. She paid for a return train ticket to Glasgow using her credit card. It was open-ended, so she would be able to return it for an almost full refund within three months.

With her false trail laid, Barbara knew her movements were virtually untraceable, but to be sure she had gone to Euston Station in time for her planned train to Glasgow. In her old coat and carrying her usual backpack, she had made sure she was recorded on several of the CCTV cameras before disappearing into the crowd of travellers alighting from Birmingham. She shucked off the coat and dropped it into the near-empty backpack. Underneath she wore a nondescript floral blouse that was not her style but had been on the clearance rack at the Marks and Spencers near the hospital yesterday when she had been discharged.

Adding a pair of sunglasses and a soft floppy hat with a scarf tied around the brim, she moved with the crowd towards Euston Road. As she walked she folded her backpack and shoved it into the M&S shopping bag. It was a ten-minute stroll to Kings Cross. Barbara took care not to look up into any of the cameras along the route. She quickly found the Ladies and discarded her shirt in favour of a black shirt and grey jumper, and a cheap cap she had found in her wardrobe. The glasses went back in her bag inside the second plastic shopping bag from Tesco that usually lined her recycling bin. Happy that it would take Winston several hours to track her, she used cash in one of the ticket machines at Kings Cross Station to purchase her ticket to Scarborough.

* * *

TOMMY

It was three hours before Tommy had time to think. His doctor, although pleased that he was awake and cognisant, ordered x-rays, scans, and blood tests. A wardsman with garlicky tuna breath and no perception that Tommy's grunts were indicating he should stop speaking, wheeled his bed around the bowels of the hospital to the various rooms. After he was poked, pulled, twisted and left to wait for ages, he finally made it back to his room. His body may have been healing, but his temper was severely frayed.

"Tommy, how do you feel?"

"Fine, Mother."

"Is there anything you need?"

"Barbara."

"I've rung Sir David. He is going to contact her. I'm sure she will be here in a day or two."

Tommy sighed and closed his eyes. A nuance in her tone bothered him. "You know more than you've told me."

"No."

"Mother," he warned. "You said Barbara had issues. What issues?"

Dorothy sat by his bed and took his hand. Tommy twitched but did not pull away. "I overheard her talking to you. She loves you, Tommy."

"I know that."

"How?"

"I..." It was hard to explain, but he had felt it as they lay beside the wall, and he had a dim recollection Barbara had told him several times since. "I just do."

"I heard her talk to you about Helen. She said you were talking to Helen after you were stabbed. Barbara thinks it was Helen you asked to marry you, not her. She doesn't know you love her, Tommy."

He sighed and closed his eyes. The letter made much better sense now. "She does, she just doesn't believe it." He ran his hand through his hair. "Would you ring Winston please, and ask him to come here after work? And bring my mobile. The nurse couldn't find it."

* * *

WINSTON

Being summoned to Hillier was like being called to the principal's office. Winston tried to think how he might have offended someone. DI Green, who was temporarily in charge of Lynley's team, seemed happy with his work. As far as he knew, he had kept his nose clean in the run-up to his Sergeants exams. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

"DC Nkata to see the Assistant Commissioner," he announced to Hillier's guard dog.

"Wait here. He won't be long."

Five minutes later, DCI Longbottom scurried out of Hillier's door. He gave Winston a shrug of apology. Clearly, Hillier was not in his best mood.

"Nkata!"

Winston strode into the room trying to look confident. "Good morning, Sir."

Hillier waved at the chair in front of his desk. "Lady Asherton rang me to inform me that Inspector Lynley is awake and seems alert and functional."

Winston gave a relieved sigh and tried a slight smile. "That is excellent news, Sir."

"Let the team know please."

"Yes, Sir. Happily." Winston waited to see if there was anything else then began to rise. Hillier could have rung with that news. The silver-haired man raised his hand. Winston lowered himself back into the chair.

"Nkata, do you know where Havers is? I seem to have lost her number. Lynley is asking after her."

"She's gone away for a while," Winston said truthfully. Barbara had told him of her plan to mislead everyone but had not told him where she was going. She had merely told him to leave a message on her mobile if Lynley's condition deteriorated.

"Where?"

"She said she was going to her cousin in Scotland." Winston chose his words deliberately. He did not want to lie, but he was not giving away her confidence easily.

"You don't have any contact details?"

"No, Sir. Any messages are to be left on her mobile."

"Do you know when she left?"

"This morning, I believe, Sir."

Hillier stood and walked to the window. "I wish she had stayed until Lynley had been brought out of his coma before she went gallivanting off to Scotland. I doubt she flew. Most likely took the train to Glasgow and then the bus link to Oban. The ferry is the only way to Mull unless you fly."

Winston shifted his weight uncertain of where the conversation was headed. "I don't know, Sir."

Hillier glanced at the clock on the wall. "It takes four or five hours to reach Glasgow by train. Then it would be nearly as long by bus to Oban." He came back and stood over Nkata. "Try to contact her by phone and if you can't raise her, make a few enquiries and leave a message for her at the ferry. We can presume Lady Asherton will happily pay for her to fly back here tomorrow and then after she has seen Lynley, she can fly back in a few days."

"Sir," Winston said slowly, "I think she needs some time away before seeing the inspector. Her timing was intentional. I don't think she is ready to confront what happened."

"You don't think, or you know?"

Winston swallowed. "Think, Sir. She just said she needed time to get her head right."

"Hmm?"

Winston wished he was anywhere but in that chair. This was going to cost Barbara a lot when he got his hands on her. "I think the stabbing, especially being in the abdomen, may have resurrected many unpleasant memories of pain and recovery. Seeing the DI in the hospital may have been too much. He was terrible to be around after he watched her being shot, at least until he was certain she would be okay. Perhaps it affects people like that, and we should give her some time."

"Whether I agree with your amateur psychology or not is irrelevant, Nkata. I promised Lady Asherton I would try. Let Havers know that Lynley wants to see her. If she insists she will not come back, then so be it."

Winston stood. "Yes, Sir. Thank you. I will ring her."

* * *

BARBARA

The steady rolling of the train lulled Barbara into a fitful sleep. Boarding at Kings Cross Station, she was on the express to York where she would change for the Transpennine Express to Scarborough. Although she indeed had a second cousin who lived at Carsaig on the Isle of Mull, the families had lost touch after Terry's death, and Barbara had no intention of going to visit her.

She was not proud of her lie, but Barbara knew her boss too well. Her letter would lead to two possible outcomes. In the first scenario, he would enlist Winston and any other willing, or unwilling soul, to look for her. She had no intention of being found. The second possibility was that he would be offended by her desertion and sink into a morass of self-pity. Here, his illness was on her side. In the hospital, he would be unable to seek comfort in his favourite single malts.

As she paced up and down the platform at York, she examined the brightly enamelled white columns that supported the iron arches curving over the tracks in a display of 19th-century industrial might. Sunlight streamed in through an arc of glass near the apex of the roof. She wondered if it was an original feature or more recent addition to soften the station's overt masculinity. She thought how tenebrous the station would be in winter if the corrugated iron panelling extended across the roof. And in the age of steam a gloomy miasma of steam train exhaust, coal dust and fog would have made it seem sinister. Barbara shivered at the thought then shook her head. "I've been watching too many Dickens movies."

To shake off her mood, Barbara bought a trashy magazine from the newsstand and tried to read it as she waited for her second train. Her thoughts kept wandering, still pre-occupied by Tommy. She considered a third possibility, Tommy might be concerned by her need for solitude after her history of PTSD following her shooting. She did not want him to worry so vowed to ring and leave a message for Winston to relay. Then her thoughts grew darker again. What if he was too ill to even think about her? As she stared at the clouds through the glass roof, she debated whether to change her ticket and return to London. She might have escaped the city, but she could not avoid her thoughts and feelings. It was going to be a difficult task to shove them back into their box and resume her detached friendship with the man she knew now was the only man she could ever love.

"Or maybe I should never go back," she muttered.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note:** I have changed the name of the actual hotel because I have made it sound far less attractive than it is, and many will recognise it.

* * *

BARBARA

The train pulled into Scarborough just before three o'clock. Barbara was tired, and her side was beginning to ache. She took a free town map from the Tourist Information stand near the platform exit then looked for a coffee stall. There was one on the corner nearest the glass doors leading outside.

"Flat white please."

"Sure," the tall, stick-thin man behind the counter replied. Barbara studied him as he lifted a new tin of Fair Trade beans from the top shelf. He could easily have been a basketballer with his height and reach. Much taller than Tommy.

The aroma of freshly ground coffee made her feel better. "Thanks, and I'll have one of those cakes too please."

"Chocolate or lemon?"

"Ah, chocolate, please."

"Four pounds twenty. In town long?"

"I'm not sure. A week maybe."

"That's good. We get too many people visiting for only a day or two. Scarborough is the sort of place you need to stay a while so that life slows down."

Barbara gave a polite smile. She was not sure she needed life to go slowly. She wanted to wake up and feel normal, and back in control. "Yeah, thanks."

She sat near the wall and sipped her coffee. It was good; far better than the slop she often had when she and Tommy were on a case. "Bloody hell." She was trying to forget him, not have reminders in everything she did.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just kicked my toe on the table leg." Barbara did not need the attention of a bored barista.

She retrieved two painkillers from her bag and swallowed them with her coffee. The cake masked their bitter aftertaste. She might need to buy some chocolate or biscuits to keep in her room.

"Excuse me."

The barista looked up from a magazine he had spread on the counter and smiled. "Yes?"

"Is there a supermarket around here?"

"Yeah, a big Tesco next door. Out the exit, turn right, then right at the first street. Big brown brick building. You can't miss it."

"Thanks."

"I get off at five. If you're in town by yourself, I'd be happy to show you around. There's a great Indian restaurant by the harbour."

Barbara frowned. Was it that obvious that she was alone? It probably was, but the man had a nerve. She shook her head. "Thank you, that's very kind, but I don't think so."

The man shrugged. "Suit yourself. Come here to forget a man have you?"

"Why do you say that? Just because I am tired and don't fancy socialising with a stranger."

The man laughed. "I'm Tom. And we're not strangers. You already know I make a great coffee. And I know you savour your coffee. You don't drink it too fast so that you can't taste it. But you don't linger too long so that the bitterness overwhelms your palate. I can tell a lot about a woman by the way she drinks her coffee."

 _Tom? Bloody hell!_ Another reminder. "Well, Tom, can you also tell that I am not interested in dinner?"

"No, I can't. Part of you wants to, but whoever he is, you can't forget him that easily. I was only offering dinner. I know you will think it's a line, but I am very strict about not sleeping with someone on a first date. So you would be perfectly safe."

Barbara almost laughed. "I'm a policewoman."

"On duty?"

"No."

"Good. Then I am still not hearing a good reason to reject my invitation."

"I'm here to recover. I was stabbed recently in the line of duty. My partner..." Barbara took a deep breath. "He saved me. He's still in the hospital."

Tom's eyes widened. "Heavy."

"Yeah."

"Where were you stabbed?"

"Withcompton."

Tom grinned. "No, I mean where on your body."

"Oh, stomach."

"Can I see the scar?"

"No! This conversation has gone far enough. Now if you'll excuse me. I have recovering to do."

"Sure." He hastily scribbled something on his order pad then tore it off and held it out. "This is my number. If you change your mind, I am a good listener. I haven't always been a barista. I was a teacher, but there was an incident, and a pupil died. I... No, nothing like that. I can see you are a policewoman. No, he was a great kid. He stepped in front of a bus outside the school. He'd asked to see me earlier that day, but I was busy and fobbed him off. Every day I wonder whether he would still be alive if I had taken the time. So now I try to help people. I try to listen to them. The moment you walked in, I could tell you are weighed down by something. So, as I said, if you change your mind, I am here."

Barbara nodded. "I'm sorry to hear that. Thanks." She grabbed the paper and shoved it into her pocket. "Goodbye." She turned and walked away quickly.

"Hey," Tom called after her, "will you at least tell me your name?"

She stopped and turned. His smile was genuine. She thought briefly about giving him a false name. "Barbara."

"Great. See you later, Barbara."

* * *

TOMMY

After being asleep for a week, Tommy was more than mildly annoyed that he had trouble staying awake. After yawning so much that his mother finally left him to sleep, he closed his eyes. Almost immediately images of running, gunshots and knives jolted him awake. A sheen of sweat coated his skin as he remembered the tormented look in Williams' eyes. Whatever demons had prompted him to such violence had not died with him. Tommy shifted his weight on the bed, afraid that they were targeting him.

Tommy took a few deep breaths then tried reading, but it gave him a headache. He watched some television, but after flicking through several boring channels turned it off. Reception on the radio was too distorted for the subtleties of Schumann's Träumerei. More importantly, the haunting music, although a favourite, was depressing. It reminded him of his failings - in love, in marriage, in not being brave enough to tell Barbara he loved her until the moment he thought he might die. He ran his hand slowly through his hair.

Lynley looked anxiously at the clock. Four o'clock. He hoped Winston would arrive around six.

He found the button on his console that controlled the blinds. With the room in darkness, he closed his eyes and prayed for a peaceful snooze.

* * *

BARBARA

Keen to disguise her destination, Barbara had packed only one change of clothes. She had always intended to buy a few simple items here, and a large Tesco was a blessing. For less than £35 she purchased two packets of biscuits, some underwear, a pair of black jeans, two plain long-sleeve tee-shirts, a lightweight jumper, and some toiletries.

Her next concern was accommodation. Unwilling to search online at home in case she left a digital trail, Barbara had taken a punt that she would be able to find a room. Advertisements for hotels of different types and sizes filled the edges of the tourist map. Initially, she had thought a small, private hotel would be best, but as she wandered along the streets of the famous spa town towards the beach, she saw several large imposing hotels marked by subtle flags or ostentatious signs. It would be much easier to get lost inside a large hotel.

Many of the hotels she walked past were too modern. The advertisements on the map proudly presented rooms refurbished in shades of hotel-utilitarian beige. Barbara wanted a hotel with character. The Carrington Hotel was that, and more. An imposing twelve storeys, the tawny brick building dominated the rise above South Bay. Built in the mid-1800s during the rise of the middle class summer holiday tradition, the building still had charm, partially from its dominance of the landscape, but mostly from the white wrought iron balcony, the glass conservatory, and the quaint faux French decorations that suggested the hotel had once been a playground of wealthier clientele.

Barbara found the entrance under a blue neon sign that arched over a portico supported by over-sized marble columns. At the top of each pillar, stone carvings reminded her of the gargoyles around Westminster. The N stuttered and flashed. As she walked up the stairs towards to the heavy timber and glass doors, the high pitched staccato buzzing sounded like a horde of midges.

She stepped inside the hotel and looked around the imposing lobby. The first impression was one of grandeur. It was a hotel built to reign over the town. It was hard for her eyes to settle on any one feature. The features seemed crowded. Mismatched styles from renovations done to modernise the look had created noise. She looked up. Giant arches, this time buttressed by square ribbed columns painted in cream with cornflower bases and garish gold trim, extended the room to a second storey, but also seemed to close it in. The ceiling, high above her head, was the same blue, it's plastered beams thankfully trimmed only in cream. To the left, a massive staircase ascended at a shallow angle. Mahogany handrails atop ornately wrought-ironed balustrades were lost against the busy red and gold square pattern of the floor coverings. Glimpses of white marble at the rounded base of the bottom step peeked out from under the run of gaudy carpet. Once, the stairs and floor would have been marble, with a more discrete single run of carpet down the centre to soften the footfall of women in evening gowns descending gracefully on the way to a ball. Now though, the splendour seemed tawdry. A central marble fountain, filled with pebbles, had a coach light on top. Well-worn brown tub chairs crowded around the feature and clashed with the carpet. Young travellers lounged with their legs over the arms as they sat with their earphones on scrolling through screens on oversized phones.

Barbara sighed then made her way to Reception. "I was wondering if you might have a room."

The man behind the desk looked her up and down. "Certainly, ma'am. How many guests?"

"Just me."

"We have single rooms available. They are cheaper than the double rooms."

Barbara felt her face go red. "A single will be fine."

"We have interior Courtyard rooms at £32. They have no windows but are well ventilated. Then we have Standard rooms at £40 which have small windows overlooking the city, or Executive Singles at £48, which have sea views and come with free breakfasts."

Barbara did a quick calculation. She had budgeted £500 for her trip and had already spent nearly £100 on travel and clothing. "Executive room please, for three nights."

"Cash or card?"

"Cash."

"I'll still need a security deposit on your card."

"I don't have one," she lied. Using her card defeated all her efforts to hide. "I don't believe in them," she added to make it seem more plausible."

The man raised his eyebrows just a fraction before painting on an obsequious smile. "Then I will need payment in advance and an additional £50 deposit please."

Barbara opened her purse and handed him four £50 notes. "You can keep the extra £6 as security rather than look for change now."

"Thank you, ma'am. May I have your name?"

"Brown. Barbara Brown."

He put the money in the till then tapped furiously on his computer before handing her a keycard. "Thank you, Ms Brown. Room 825, on the eighth floor. There are lifts over there behind the timber panel. When you exit, turn the left. It's the last room on the right."

Barbara smiled politely. "Thank you for your help."

"Enjoy your stay."


	6. Chapter 6

TOMMY

Tommy woke with a start when his door swung open. Winston looked sheepish as he entered. "Sorry to disturb you, Sir. How are you?"

"Seemingly better than when they had me forcibly imprisoned in a coma."

"Right. Good."

"Well? Have you found Barbara?" Winston winced, and Tommy knew. "She doesn't want to be found, does she? She never went to Mull."

"No, Sir, she told me she wanted to get away and not be found."

Tommy nodded. "Has she contacted you?"

"Not yet. She said she could be contacted by a message on her mobile. I have left a couple. They went straight to voicemail, so she has her phone switched off. I suppose she will only turn it on to check. I could put a trace on it so that when she turns it on..."

Tommy waved his hand to stop Winston. "No. Don't bother. If she doesn't want me to find her, she will have forwarded it to another number or will dial in to retrieve messages from any phone." Tommy ran his hand through his hair. It needed a wash. "Did you find my mobile?"

Winston handed Tommy the phone. "Yes, Sir. It was in an evidence bag, but it's not technically evidence."

"Especially as there will never be a court case. Thank you, Winston. I don't suppose you have a charger?"

The younger policeman looked pleased with himself. "I took the one from your office." He placed it on the bedside chest.

"Good thinking, Winston. How are you going with your exam preparation?"

Nkata looked down. "I haven't done much the last few days."

"Who is in charge while I'm in here?"

"DI Green."

"I'll ring him and ask him to give you time to study."

"But, Sir, he'll think I have been complaining. I'm not. I will be fine. I still have three weeks. Sergeant Havers will help when she gets back."

"Barbara has a lot on her mind. I can help too. Bring your book in when you visit, and I will quiz you." Tommy saw Winston trying to hide his reaction. It made him laugh. "Don't look so horrified. It's important to me that you do your best. You have a bright future."

Winston focussed on a flaw in the cotton on Tommy's bedcover and picked at it with his fingernail. "Thanks, Sir."

Tommy decided to have mercy and change the subject. "Thank you for bringing my phone. I will think about what to say then leave Barbara a message."

Winston looked up. "I'm sorry, Sir."

Tommy frowned. "For what?"

"Not stopping her. Not getting to you two fast enough before you were... attacked."

"Nonsense. Barbara and I will both be fine."

"But she... seems so distressed."

"It's my fault she left, not yours. When we were lying there, I said something she misunderstood. Only I can fix this."

Winston nodded. "I guess I should let you sleep."

Tommy smiled. Poor Winston. "Thank you. If Barbara does ring, ask her to call me."

"I will. Take care."

* * *

BARBARA

The room was pleasantly quirky. At the end of the building, the room was shaped like a wedge instead of the ubiquitous rectangles. The point, a dead area that held only a floor lamp, drew her eyes to the window on the hypotenuse wall. Barbara walked across and gasped. The view was stunning. The low rays of afternoon light caught the colours of the town. The tide was low, and for well over 50 metres, wet golden sand reflected the streaks of reds, and blues, and yellows.

She looked around the room. The bed ran along the wall next to the door. Above the timber bed head affixed to the wall, was a print of a painting of Scarborough in a storm. Lightning flashed out to sea, and a green light cast over the town. Barbara wondered at the choice. Surely a bright sunny scene would be more appealing.

On the other wall was a wardrobe decorated with Art Deco golds and timber which, on closer inspection, was just patterned laminate. Beside the closet was a door to the ensuite. Floor-to-ceiling white envelope-shaped tiles were broken by a single line of blue tiles that ran around at shoulder height. It reminded her of the public lavatories in the Old Bailey, except that those tiles were cream and green. The tiny shower was over a narrow hip bath, separated from the toilet by a thick white shower curtain that smelt of Lysol.

Barbara unpacked her shopping bags and grabbed a biscuit. Choc Mint Creams were one of her favourite indulgences when she felt low, and right now, low did not even begin to describe it. The inevitable loomed. She switched on her new mobile and waited for a signal. Four new messages, the screen flashed at her. She took a deep breath then dialled voicemail. The first was from Winston telling her people were looking for her. The next, also from Winston, told her Lynley was awake and fine, and asking for her. He then began a story about being summoned to Hillier. It cut off just as he was saying how awkward he felt. As she suspected, the third message finished the story and warned her he expected a big payback in the form of help with his upcoming exams.

She hesitated. Tommy would undoubtedly try to call. There was one more message. She wanted to hear his voice, but she dreaded it too. What would he say? What could he say? Her heart raced, and her head pounded. She pressed the button.

"Me again..." Winston! Barbara felt as if she had fallen. Despite all her fear, she had hoped to hear Tommy's voice. She listened to Winston explaining that he on his way to see a Lynley, and would report back later. She checked the time of the call. It was only twenty minutes ago. She lay on the bed, closed her eyes and waited for the voicemail beep.

* * *

WINSTON

Once outside the hospital, Winston found a quiet corner. He sat on a bench in front of a bed of petunias. It was the sort of spot visitors went to find respite from watching loved ones suffer. He took a deep breath then dialled Barbara's number. As expected, it went straight to her voicemail.

"Hi. I just visited the DI. He seems tired but okay. I forgot to ask whether his wound was healing well. Anyway, he has his phone now and said he would call you. He guessed straight away that you're not in Mull and that you are avoiding everyone. He said it was his fault. Something about you misconstruing something he said. I guess he will clear it up when he calls you. Talk to him. I could tell he feels bad about whatever's happened between you. Lynley never copes well when you're not around. Take care, and I hope you are getting plenty of rest."

Winston sat and watched the flowers for a little longer. In this patch of the world, so divorced from reality, there was only beauty and colour.

* * *

BARBARA

The buzz bolted her out of her dream. She had been holding Tommy the same way as she had in Withcompton, but this time they were in bed, naked, and there was no knife.

"Bloody hell! I just get to the good bit..."

With her phone diverted to voicemail, the warning sound alerted her to a message. She hoped it would be Tommy. She also feared that. If he begged her to go back, she knew she would, even if it would rip her in two.

She heard Winston's voice and sighed. "...you misconstruing something he said." And in one sentence Winston destroyed any hope that Tommy loved her. Or at least loved her in the many ways she loved him.

She hung up before Winston's message ended. What more did she need to hear?

* * *

TOMMY

Emotions came easily to Tommy, but the words to express them did not. He knew Helen had been correct. His emotional growth had been halted by what he witnessed as a teenager. Every relationship he had after that was framed in four key dimensions, lust, loyalty, duty and trust. For years, those words had framed his understanding of love. Love only existed when he possessed each of these. With Deborah, lust had never been an issue between them, nor initially had trust. Loyalty, however, had vanished when Deborah had turned more and more to Simon. Trust had soon followed, and yet Tommy had remained a dutiful friend to Simon. With Helen, they had been loyal friends. Lust had never really taken root. They had managed to fulfil conjugal duties, but sex had never been the intense connection that it should have been. Over time, neither of them had been completely loyal, and Tommy knew that from the moment she had left him, he had never entirely trusted her again.

Barbara was different. Time and again she had proved her loyalty, and he hoped he had repaid her, not that it was an obligation. He trusted her more than he had ever trusted anyone. They shared an unspoken duty to care for the other. They were each other's reason for living when the world had stripped all others away. He had successfully ignored his love for her by believing that lust played no part in their friendship. Barbara was not beautiful. In fact, she did her utmost to minimise her appeal. But his universe increasingly centred on her. An accidental brush of fingers at work, a playful push, or draping his arm around her shoulder; every touch made him feel alive and connected. His body wanted more. He wanted to explore the tranquillity he had when they had been pressed together by the wall. Just holding each other would bring that. Making love would be beyond any sensation he had had. He wanted to experience it. Lust was just not a strong enough word.

Knowing he would inevitably say the wrong thing, he grabbed the notepad by his bed and began to scribble his message.

 _Barbara, please don't hang up. I think you misunderstood what I said._ No, she would hang up thinking he had not meant his proposal.

 _Barbara, please listen to my message. I need to see you. We have to talk. I meant what I said. Call me._ No, that sounded like an order.

 _Barbara, we need to talk. Please come back so we..._ No.

 _Barbara..._

Tommy closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose. What did he really need to say? He took up his pen.

 _Barbara, I love you. I meant every word of my proposal. I want us to live together forever, but I can understand that it came out of the blue and shocked you._ No. Better, but still no.

 _Barbara, I love you. When I thought I might die, I had to tell you. I wanted you to know that you are my life. I'm only sorry that I lacked the confidence to say anything before. I know we need to talk through so many things, but I heard you tell me you feel the same. Not by the wall, when you thought I was talking to Helen, but here as you held my hand and gave me a reason to live. Ring me. Or better still, come back to me._

* * *

BARBARA

Unable to face anything at all after Winston's message, Barbara decided to go for a walk along the beachfront. When she exited the hotel and crossed over to the concrete broadwalk that ran along the edge of the sand, she looked both ways. To the left were people. The waterfront was bright and busy, a stark contrast to the sombre ruins of Scarborough Castle that sat on the cliff above the town, separated only by a band of green trees. Crowded with amusement arcades, pubs and casinos, the road curved around towards the harbour. Lovers ambled arm-in-arm, savouring every moment together. Youths sat on the steel railings and pointed and laughed at those they considered pathetic. When a pretty girl passed, they sat straighter and made comments that usually earned them scowls with the occasional shy smile. Older couples strolled hand-in-hand enjoying companionable conversation. Young children ran and screamed as they fell or picked up handfuls of sand to throw at their siblings. It was too much.

Barbara turned right. Here the beach was pockmarked with rocks covered in slippery green algae. Only a few isolated buildings sat beneath scrub covered sand dunes. Dogs ran along the beach kicking up sand and braving the water to retrieve sticks. Older men jogged on the concrete path in an attempt to shed unwanted kilos. The truly committed, or foolhardy, ran along the wide strip of wet sand. Lonely women walked with hands in pockets and an air of sadness of what might have been. Yes, this was the direction Barbara needed to go.


	7. Chapter 7

TOMMY

He recorded his message and waited. And waited. And waited.

It had been too much to assume that Barbara had been waiting for his voicemail and would instantly ring him and tell him she loved him and was on her way back, but he had hoped that would happen. At the very least he expected some sort of acknowledgement. It was not every day someone declared their previously unspoken love. It warranted some form of answer.

* * *

BARBARA

"Hello."

Barbara jumped. She had been miles away, thinking about how not to think about Tommy. She looked around. Tom the barista was on the sand ten feet from where she was walking. "Are you stalking me?"

He laughed. "You really are a copper. Do you always assume people are committing crimes?"

"Yes."

He shook his head. "I'm walking my dog."

Barbara looked at him and raised her eyebrows. She was just in the mood to practise some Aikido. "An invisible dog? A new breed I take it?"

Tom grinned at her then whistled. "Ruggles! Come on, boy."

A woolly, wet, tan and black furball raced up the beach. It stopped at Tom's feet and shook water from his coat.

"He's adorable," Barbara said, her suspicions allayed. "What sort is he?"

"A Lakeland Terrier. Similar to an Airedale. Technically, he's one of my sister's dogs. He's a new dad, and has been helping his wife with the pups, but Lizzie thought she needed more time alone with the little ones, so we're having some time doing boy things, aren't we Ruggles?"

The dog wagged it's tail with liquid enthusiasm that sprayed over Barbara. "Is Lizzie his wife, or your sister? Or both?"

Tom stared at her then laughed. "My sister. His wife is Miss Margaret, but we call her Maggie."

"Well, he's lovely." Barbara bent down and tickled the wet dog behind his ear.

"Hear that, boy? You have an admirer. So, where are you headed, Barbara?"

"I'm just walking."

"Trying to clear your head?"

"Something like that." She started to walk off.

"This man of yours must be quite a bastard to have hurt you like this."

"No, he's not. It was... he... he doesn't know I love him. He would never be intentionally cruel."

"So what did he do to cause you to run away to Scarborough, of all places."

"Why 'of all places'?"

"It's a holiday town. Happy people come here to be happier. Sad people come here thinking it will make them forget. The town is like alcohol. Happy people feel better, unhappy people sink deeper into their woes. Who wants to see everyone else happy when your heart aches? Is that why you ran away? To try and be happy?"

He had a point. "I didn't run away. I came to recuperate."

"If that's what you need to believe..."

"Maybe you should take Ruggles home to Maggie."

Tom shook his head. "I'll leave if you tell me what you need to tell someone."

Barbara stopped and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath. He was right. She needed to tell someone, but a complete stranger was not ideal. Then again, maybe it was better. "It's a stupid thing. When we were injured, he was delirious and thought I was his deceased wife. He asked me to marry him. I said yes because... I thought he might die and I wanted to him to die at peace."

"And later it was awkward? He remembered and tried to explain it's not you he loves?"

"No. We haven't spoken yet. The doctors kept him in a coma. They were waking him up today."

"Ah, I see."

"Satisfied? Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to be alone." She pushed past him and quickened her pace. Ruggles trotted happily beside her. "Go away. Maggie needs you at home."

"You need to tell him."

"Grr! Just leave me alone."

"No, Barbara. You need to face this, and your man. What's his name?"

"Tommy."

"Really? How ironic. You should tell him how you feel. Why it hurt you so much. Do you even know how he is?"

"My other colleague said he seems okay."

"And?"

"And what?" Tom kept pace with her. She realised they were eye to eye. He was still on the sand while she was on the concrete. She could avoid him by moving further away from the edge of the footpath.

"Your colleague said something else that has turned your self pity into this hostility."

"Self pity? Is that what you think?"

"Yes, because the man has not done anything deliberately cruel. If you were both stabbed and he was wounded more severely, can I assume a degree of survivor guilt?"

"You assume too much. He saved my life, and the doctors think I repaid the debt quickly."

"How?"

Barbara stopped and sat on a bench that looked out to sea. Ruggles jumped up and sat beside her, his damp head nestling into her lap. With ease, Tom stepped up onto the path and sat next to Ruggles. Without looking at him once, Barbara told him the story. Then she found herself telling him almost everything starting with being paired together, their different backgrounds, their growing friendship, and the moment she knew she was in love with him. As she talked about holding his hand and walking away, tears began to run down her face. Tom passed her a clean handkerchief. It was the sort of thing Tommy would do. She looked over and smiled.

* * *

TOMMY

In the four hours since leaving his message, Tommy had come full circle on his emotions. Hope, despair, anger, elation, peace, worry. It was not like Barbara to ignore him. He knew that he was being arrogant, but he also knew it was the truth.

He rang Winston. "Have you heard from Barbara yet?"

"Hi. Er, no, Sir. I have left a couple of messages. I was hoping she was too busy talking to you."

"No. She hasn't rung me. I am about thirty minutes away from reporting her as a missing person. Or I could take out a private advertisement on national television asking for help in locating her."

"Sir, you don't think that's extreme?"

"Of course it is. But I can't just lie here and do nothing."

"Sir..."

"What Winston?"

"I don't know what you said in your message, but maybe you need to say more. Convince her that she can come back safely."

"Safely? I'd never hurt her. She knows that."

"Not physically. Sir, this is not my place to say, but I think she's in love with you, and... it must be difficult."

"It needn't be."

"And..."

"Yes?"

"Maybe it is time you told her how you feel."

"Do you think I am in love with her?"

There was a long pause. "Yes, Sir, I think you have been for a long time, but neither of you were ever going to say anything."

"Thank you, Winston. For your peace of mind, I have already left messages to that effect. I intend to convince her when I eventually find her. If you hear anything, let me know."

Tommy checked his phone log but there were no missed calls and no messages. He rang Barbara's number. It went straight to voicemail. So, she still had it switched off. "Hi. It's me. I had hoped to hear from you by now. I am worried, Barbara. Please call me. I love you."

Ten minutes later, he rang again. "Me again. I was thinking that my sudden declaration might have scared you. I had hoped you would come running back to me and it would all be fine, but I know we both have history and baggage. The stabbing was traumatic and... we both need to work through that. If changing our relationship status now is too hard, that's okay. I just wanted you to know how I feel. Above everything, I am your friend and I am here for you."

Another five minutes. "When you had me in your arms, it was the most wonderful feeling of peace. I want to feel that again. Please come back to me. Let me love you."

Five minutes later. "That last message might have sounded wrong. I meant love you in a broad sense, please don't think I meant sex. I know what you think of my reputation, but this is different. Don't get me wrong, I do want that too of course, but in time, when we are both better."

Over the next two hours, Tommy left several messages. Finally, his eyes were so heavy he could not keep them open. The phone dropped onto his chest when he fell asleep.

* * *

BARBARA

Tom and Ruggles escorted her back to the hotel in the fading light. "Best of luck, Barbara. I hope to read in the papers soon that you are now Lady Asherton."

Barbara smiled. "Thanks, Tom. You were right. Talking has helped. I think I will go back to London in the morning."

"You should. Making peace with Tommy is the only way you will find any. All the best, Barbara." He leant down and gave her a light kiss on her cheek.

"Woof!"

Barbara laughed then kneeled down to embrace Ruggles. "You too. Now be a good father and husband won't you. I bet you have beautiful pups."

"They're adorable. Maggie's wheaten, so they have pups of all colours. We should go, shouldn't we boy? Take care, Barbara."

Barbara watched them walk away. At the corner, Ruggles looked back. So did Tom. He waved and smiled.

She stopped at Reception and changed her booking back to one night. That way she could not change her mind.

Upstairs, she had a quick shower then turned on the television. She picked up her phone and checked voicemail. Eighteen new messages.

* * *

TOMMY

He woke just before the knife went into his chest. He ran his hand through his hair. His face was cold and sweaty. He tried to roll onto his good side but something sharp jabbed him. "Ow!"

His fingers found his phone. He dug it out from under his side. The screen lit up. There was a text from a number he did not recognise.

 _This is Barbara._

He hurriedly used his thumbprint to unlock his phone. There were three messages from the same number.

 _I do love you, Tommy. More than you will ever know._

 _I am coming back tomorrow. I should be there about 1 or 2 pm._

 _This is Barbara._


	8. Chapter 8

BARBARA

There were very few diners when the breakfast room opened. Barbara selected a seat by the window where she could look out at the beach. She sipped dark liquid misleadingly labelled 'Coffee' while she waited for the buffet to open.

The sun was creeping up over the edge of the sea in a dazzling show of gold and silver that rippled across the waves to the shore. Today the world seemed bright. The air was crisp and clean. The sea sparkled and even the people seemed more upbeat. She smiled to herself and resisted the urge to listen to one of Tommy's messages again.

Breakfast brought her back to earth. The fried eggs were tepid and hard as if they had stewed under the bain marie for hours. The bacon had very little meat and could have been used as emergency repairs on a bike tire. The mushrooms were grey and coated in solidified ghee. She chanced half a grilled tomato, and two sausages that had burst through the skins at both ends.

She sat at the table and smiled. Years ago, she would have thought this was a classy hotel. Now she imagined Tommy politely selecting what he would eat and showing his disdain by carefully avoiding any direct criticism of the hotel while subtly highlighting the flaws. Faded grandeur he would label it - taking something that had once been for the wealthier holidaymakers and now presenting a populist perception of what class entailed for a budget price. She thought back to the time they had stayed in the caravan. She had been so excited about reliving her past, one of the few times she was truly happy, that she had not stopped to see it from his point of view. She cringed at how he must have seen it, and what he must have thought of her. How could she ever hope to fit into his world?

Suddenly losing her appetite, she pushed the plate away. "I'm being a fool. This won't work. We're just too different."

* * *

TOMMY

Even though Barbara's message had said she would not be arriving until after lunch, Tommy had set the alarm in his phone for six o'clock. He wanted to shower, shave and change. The nurse who came on duty after seven was a tyrant, but the young night nurse was more responsive to his charms.

"Morning Lord Asherton. You're awake early. Is everything alright?" she said when she walked in at exactly 6:05.

"Yes, thank you. I am looking forward to today. I would like to shave and have a shower. When can we remove these contraptions?" He gestured at his monitors.

"The Doctor will be here at nine. They will decide then on whether to unhook you." The nurse glanced at the door then the ensuite. "I can bring you a bowl of water and a razor, but I will have to check with the doctors before we let you out of bed."

Tommy tried his sweetest smile. "I won't tell if you don't."

"It's not worth my job I'm afraid. Not even for that smile." The nurse smiled as his pout. "I can give you another nice bed bath if you'd like."

"Another?"

"I used to wash you when you were in your coma."

Tommy smiled politely but inwardly felt violated at the thought of the woman touching him. "Now I am awake, I would prefer a shower."

"I'll ask the doctor. Meanwhile would you like water to shave?"

"Yes. Thank you, that would be a good start."

* * *

BARBARA

Her train was due to leave just before eight o'clock, but Barbara arrived at the station a little after seven.

"Good morning."

Tom looked up and smiled. "Good morning, Barbara. Heading home?"

She nodded. "Yeah. You were right. Tommy had left messages for me. Seems he does love me after all."

"Then why don't you have a smile as wide as Scarborough beach?"

She shrugged.

"Time for a coffee? On the house."

"Yeah, that'd be great."

Tom quickly ground fresh beans and made her a rich cappuccino. "Here you go. Now give. What's worrying you?"

"We're so different. Even if we do... love each other, how am I ever going to fit into his world?"

"You're not."

Barbara sighed. "See. What's the point of going to him?"

"He loves you, so he will change his world to meet yours. He won't expect you to be someone you're not. He fell in love with who you are, not some ideal trophy wife. You'll have moments, like most marriages, but if you both give a bit, and keep loving each other, it will work out."

"I hope so. Even deciding where to live will be a challenge."

"Not London?"

"He has a big estate in Cornwall. Howenstowe. It's near Nanrunnel. If he's pensioned off, London will probably have little appeal to him."

"If you're there, it will have enormous appeal. And you might find the country air suits you too."

"Yeah, maybe."

"Don't go back there scared of what might happen. Go back prepared to make it work. If he's worth it, you'll find a way. Now off you go. I don't want you missing that train."

"Thank you, Tom. For everything."

"And thank you. I've decided to follow my own advice and face up to my past. I have applied for a teaching job."

Barbara smiled, then hugged him. "I'm glad. You will be excellent."

* * *

TOMMY

After a lengthy debate with one of the doctors, Tommy begrudgingly agreed to a compromise of sitting on a plastic shower stool with a male nurse standing in the doorway in case he fainted. He had to use the hand held shower rose. He held it above his head and let the warm water wash over him. His side was healing well and the doctor had told him he could be released in 48 hours if he continued to improve and promised to adhere to a bland diet with no alcohol for another month.

Tommy would have agreed to run naked through Westminster if he thought it would persuade the doctors to release him. Although his doctor was rather odd and might have enjoyed that idea. He shuddered as he recalled their conversation which had started innocently enough. "Mother wants me to return to Cornwall to recuperate."

"Excellent. Fresh air and some gentle exercise will do you good. Walking only. Nothing with any impact."

"No horse riding then?" Tommy had joked, with a pang of regret.

"No, definitely not. And no intimate relations for a least two weeks and then only very gently. Not too much vigorous thrusting and do not have Miss Havers on top for at least a month. Remember she is still recovering, and jumping up and down puts too much pressure on your..."

Tommy raised his hand. He felt his face darken. "I understand, Doctor. Thank you, I will keep your advice in mind."

* * *

BARBARA

The train journey seemed to crawl at the beginning, but as she approached London, Barbara thought it was going too quickly. Her hand was quivering as it rested on the window frame. She took a deep breath. Maybe if she listened to his messages again, she might feel calmer. She pulled out her phone.

"I'm so sorry, Barbara. I struggle to talk about my feelings, but it doesn't make them less real. Remember that night at your flat? I knew then, I just couldn't bring myself to believe it. Forgive me?" It was followed a few minutes later by another. "I promise to try to be better. It will be with you because... so much between us is unsaid but understood. Except that you never knew I loved you. If ai had died, you would never have known. I dream that...it doesn't matter. You know now."

Poor Tommy was right. He did have trouble expressing himself about matters close to his heart, but that's what made his awkward messages and explanations even more endearing.

As the outskirts of London rolled past, she send a message: _Almost in London. Will go home then come to the hospital about 1pm._

It took less than thirty seconds to receive a reply. _No. Come straight here_.

"Yes, M'Lord." Barbara shook her head.

Her phone beeped again. _Please_.

She took another deep breath then replied. _I'm nervous._

She waited. His answer did not take long. _Me too. I love you. It won't take long to get used to saying it in person._

Barbara let out a long sigh. "I hope not."

* * *

TOMMY

Tommy persuaded the doctors to free him from his monitors and drips, but they insisted he stay in bed. He had adjusted the bed so he was almost sitting as it gave him the clearest view of the door.

He checked his watch. It was almost noon. Barbara would be here any minute. He combed his hair, smoothed his pyjamas, and waited.

* * *

BARBARA

She paused in the hall. "This is insane."

Barbara turned and walked back to the lift. She punched the button and watched the numbers above the door tick down to her floor. The doors opened slowly. An elderly man had his arm around a gaunt woman in a dressing gown. A floral scarf was wound around her head. Her hand gripped a portable drip stand, and the tube ran from the back of her hand up to a bag of yellow chemicals. The way the couple looked at each other made Barbara feel as if she had intruded on one of the few moments the couple had alone. "I'm sorry," Barbara said.

She turned back and raced down the corridor. She looked through the small glass panel in the door. Tommy was waiting, his face turned to the door. When he saw her, he smiled. All her doubts vanished.

* * *

TOMMY

When Tommy saw her face through the window, his heart began to thump so hard he was pleased the monitors were gone, or the nurses would come running.

"Hiya," she said when she entered the room.

"Hi. Good trip?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, okay."

"I'm glad you're back."

"I'm sorry I ran away."

"I understand. I'm sorry about the coma or we could have cleared things up days ago. I do have vague snippets of memory of you sitting with me and holding my hand. I can't remember what you said, but I am sure you told me that you loved me."

Barbara nodded. "Yeah, I did. Once or twice. I didn't think you could hear me."

"Are you going to stand over there all day?" He reached out his hand. She took two steps forward by remained just out of reach. "Come here, Barbara," he said softly.

"I..."

She moved close enough for him to be able to take her hand. For the first time she looked at him. He smiled. Her eyes closed slowly. He noticed a tear in the corner of her left eye. He reached up and wiped it away. "Lie with me."

Her eyes opened. "What?"

He moved over then patted the space beside him. "We have plenty of time to talk later. Right now, I just want to hold you and feel your arms around me. I love you, Barbara."

"I love you too, but... oh hell, who cares."

Barbara dropped her bag on the floor and climbed onto the bed. She nestled into his good side and carefully laid her arm over his chest. He enveloped her in a huge hug. Her heart was racing against his ribs, but slowed as they snuggled closer. For the first time since the stabbing, he felt at peace. Tommy kissed the top of her head. "I've needed this."

"Me too."

"Barbara, I know that last time I asked this, you thought I was delirious, but it was you I was asking. Now that you know that, will you marry me?"

"Are you sure?"

"Never surer."

"Then yes, I will, but I am what I am, Tommy."

"What you are, Barbara, is perfect for me."

* * *

BARBARA

Barbara could barely belief her ears. Even though she had listened to his messages, to be here, in his arms, still felt surreal. She looked up and gave him her best smile. Tommy somehow found her lips. His kiss was tender and full of love. Neither of them tried to deepen it. This was not about passion, it was about truth.

* * *

 **POSTSCRIPT**

TOMMY

Barbara was cuddled against Tommy's uninjured side as they sat on the picnic rug underneath the willow. They had been at Howenstowe for almost a week, yet today was the first day it had been warm enough for his mother to allow him outside.

"We should send Mother to the Continent for a break."

Barbara laughed. "You have no chance. Not until you are fully recovered. You know she had a quiet word to me about sex when we arrived."

Tommy stiffened. "It's none of her business. What did she say?"

"Not to overexcite you because your stitches haven't fully healed. I told her we were waiting until we were married."

His eyebrows shot up. "Are we?"

Barbara laughed harder. "No, not a chance. I told her we were taking things slowly. Getting to know each other."

"Getting to know each other?"

"That's exactly what she said. I said we were like teenagers slowly exploring each other's bodies."

"You didn't. Did you?" Tommy looked at her. Her head was resting on his chest but she grinned up cheekily at him. "Well, that will teach her to ask."

"The doctors did say no vigorous activity."

"Don't remind me. But my fortnight ban is almost up. And I do think I am more skilled than your average teenager, and you definitely are, my love."

"Am I?" Barbara's hand moved around his waist and settled on his belt buckle.

Tommy stroked her cheek with his knuckles. "I love you, Barbara."

"I love you too." Her fingers stretched down over his fly.

Tommy groaned then bent down to kiss her. This was something he would never tire of doing. Her mouth was soft and eager. "Let's go upstairs," he whispered when their lips reluctantly parted. "My stitches are almost completely healed."

"There you two are... Oh!"

Tommy groaned and Barbara's hand stopped caressing him. For a moment she left it in place on the outside of his jeans as if debating whether it hid or accentuated the obvious. He hastily covered it with his as if they were just holding hands.

"Mother!"

His mother glanced quickly at them. Her eyebrows arched only a fraction. "Sorry."

Tommy was relieved that they would not be lectured. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your interruption?"

"Did you order a stud dog?"

"What? Mother, you're making no sense."

"The Post Master from Nanrunnel just rang to confirm someone was home. Apparently a dog has been sent to us."

"How do you post a dog?" Barbara asked.

"The Post Office is also the local hub for rail parcels and couriers." Tommy glanced at his watch. "The animal probably arrived on the last train."

"I said it was a mistake, but the dog has to go somewhere, so I asked him to bring it up until we straighten things out."

Tommy tried to stand. Barbara helped him. His side was still stiff and painful when he moved too quickly. He did not need her for support but he happily let Barbara cuddle under his arm as the trio walked towards the house. The Post Master arrived just as they reached the front door.

"Afternoon M'lord, Lady Asherton, Ms Havers," the man said as he opened the rear door of his van.

"Good afternoon, Bill. Mother says you have a dog for us?"

"Yeah, the tag says 'Lady Asherton, from Tom'. I assumed you ordered it, M'Lord and forgot to ask me to look out for him." Bill pulled out a cardboard travel crate. It tilted awkwardly as the occupant moved around. A little black paw came out one of the small air holes. "He's a lively one, but it's been a long trip."

"Where did he come from?" Dorothy asked.

"Scarborough."

Barbara laughed and everyone turned to look at her. "I met his breeder while I was there. He's the one that convinced me I needed to tell Tommy how I felt."

"Then why send it to me?" Dorothy asked.

"I think Tom was rather hoping Barbara would have married me by now."

Dorothy smiled. "Ah, of course. I'll leave you to it."

Barbara turned. "No, come and meet him. He'll be our family pet." Barbara opened the box and scooped up the wriggling bundle of curly fur. She turned to Tommy. "We can keep him?"

"Of course." Tommy put his arm around Barbara and patted the dog who tried to nip his fingers. "And I think we need to change your name rather quickly, future Lady Asherton, and start working on that family for him."

Barbara grinned up at him and gave a little nod. "Carrington, meet Dad, and this lady is Grandma."

"Carrington? Sounds like a butler's name." Tommy took the pup and lifted it up. "Hmm, there's a vital part missing too. I think we might have to amend that to Carrie."

The pup tried to lick his face. Barbara took her back. "No little one. Those lips are mine." She kissed him to claim ownership. Tommy's arms wrapped around her as the pup wriggled between them.

"I'll be off then," Bill said, waving as he retreated to his van.

Dorothy took Carrie. "I think I might show Carrie the grounds. With all this excitement, I think you two should rest."

Tommy and Barbara grinned at each other. To hell with the doctors. They needed to make love, and it would be slow and gentle. "Good idea, Mother. We'll be in our room."

Dorothy smiled. "No hurry. I'll look after Carrie. I'll call you for dinner."

As Tommy led Barbara away, she looked up. "Your mother thinks wa are..."

He cut her off. "We are. Oh, we most definitely are."


End file.
